Gumdrop
by Verboten Byacolate
Summary: In which it is proven that all roads lead to some sort of love. Or at least eleven do. Renji/Rukia.


For the Valentines challenge on **renji_rukia** community on LJ, hosted by yankeerose69. Being the glutton I am, I decided to use all of her helpful prompts.  
There may be some _sliiight _IchiRuki. But not much. I can't help that 95% of Rukia in general has something to do with Ichigo.  
These are all random little drabblets that jump back and forth. Some are set back in the academy. Some are when Renji and Rukia just meet. Some are after the Hueco Mundo arc. Some are just whenever. Read it with the same mindset that you attained from watching the Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya.

* * *

1. Kisses

They began as children, as all people did. Running, laughing, kicking, crying vandal children. He was from one side of town, she from the other side of the galaxy. And still, by some brilliant and cruel stroke of luck, fate tossed them together like a salad. A salad full of hooligan lettuce, but a salad nonetheless.

She was a girl, and he a boy, and by the fireside, cruel comrades with wicked intentions pushed them into an awkward position spawned from boredom and a simple curiosity. His sense of pride was put to the test, as was her will to undergo a right of passage.

"Renji. I dare you to kiss the new girl."

* * *

2. Addicted to you

He will depart without her once more, and she just hates it. She'll admit that he deserves to stand on a platform that reaches far above hers because he excels in the academy. He _thrives _here. And though she tries her best, she still can't find herself to be as powerful as he. But she doesn't want him to go. She simply wants him by her side.

Is that to much to ask?

(...)

She is leaving for the human world again, and he abhors it. That stupid human boy and his stupid human friends take up more and more of her heart and, like a spoiled child, he doesn't want to let her go. He wants her to remain here by his side. Because it was that boy who -he will grudgingly admit, picks a good fight- had her nearly killed in the first place. It certainly _was _his duty to save her from a terrible fate, stupid carrot top, but he didn't have to keep coming back to take her to him. And she didn't have to keep going back of her own free will. He simply wants her by his side.

Is that too much to ask?

* * *

3. Candy

"What am I?"

Rukia stands before him with a goofy grin on her face that said, _It's on the tip of your tongue, Renji, come on_, spreading her arms to allow him a better look. It was like deciphering her artwork. With years of practice he'd learned how to differentiate teddy bears from mud puddles, but this was new. From heat to tow she was decked in glittering blush-colored pink material- hat, boots, body suit, and even sprinkled on her cheeks was dusty glitter.

Why on earth she was dressed like this, he just didn't know, but he had heard Ichigo try to guess earlier, only to recieve blows to the facial region. Rukia had called him an idiot and never answered, so Renji had no backup material. He racks his brain with probable guesses.

"A pig after a sequin bath?"

She stamps her foot in a huff.

"I'm a gumdrop, you idiot!"

* * *

4. Blush

He excuses himself by way of standing so quickly that the chair he'd previously sat upon crashes to the floor as he clumsily sprints out the door and into the hallway. He runs into the men's room and locks himself in a stall, covering his brilliant red face with both of his large hands.

How stupid of him to fall apart like a lovestruck schoolgirl because Rukia had merely brought him lunch. It was definitely time to man up.

* * *

5. Our own world

Fight. Blood. Bruises. Contempt. Deceit. Death. Horror.

For their entire lives they kill. They exist to thirst for the vicious cacophony of steel on steel.

Fight. Comrades. Victory. Life. Joy. Smiles. Exhaustion.

A little closer to home, and to each other, they stand beside a mountain of companions who know that down in their souls, beyond all for one there is one for all. And deeper still sits their pride. Watching one another win or lose is not the issue. It's watching one another fall.

Fight. Laughter. Tears. Triumph. Fulfillment. Spontaneity. Love.

Forever will speak of winning the war. Tales will be told in millions of ways about millions of battles. If the topic of the war is introduced, it will be weeks before the new uproar settles into blood-soaked earth: how Yumichika never saved Ikkaku's ass; how old Isshin-taichou popped in to say hello near Kenpachi's deathbed; how a young boy with brilliant orange hair saved them all. But they will never speak of moments of weakness in the victory; of holding on to one another for dear life, breathless confessions before their almost-death, of hands held and shoulders lent.

It is something the pride of the fight does not allow.

* * *

6. Letter

Because he loved her.

Exhausted from running errands like some kind of errand-running errand runner, Renji sat on the tallest branch of Rukia's tree, ignoring all of his errand-ish papers that fell from the branch and took to the sky. He bit the end of his (taichou's) pen and scowled at the small shred of paper he held taut against his leg. Words completely escaped him in moments like these-- you know. The ones where he _tried _to appeal to a girl's heart. His words were dumb and sweet and so he had torn them off, bit by bit, until he had but a mere facsimile of a sham of a bit of scrap paper left.

Simply put, only flowerless words could describe his sentiments. Or lack thereof.

Because he loved her.

Why was he trying to write a love letter again?

Renji scowled, fervently ignoring his blush.

The letter was perfect in his mind. In fact, it was nearly fourteen pages long. But now, sitting on the treetop, he could think of nothing worth putting on the paper. Nothing she would read with a straight face, anyway.

This was stupid.

Only idiots wrote love letters. Besides, he'd already written it in his head. What was the point of putting it to paper if he'd never let her see it?

Renji glanced to the left and scratched at the back of his neck.

_P.S.- I love you._

* * *

7. Satisfaction

One week was all it took for Renji to be completely humbled. His childhood friend had returned to him in the form of a prisoner. She was to be put under his watch until her death. He was beaten by an orange-haired young upstart who acted as if he knew said childhood friend so much more than Renji did. He had sacrificed his pride to the wannabe shinigami by way of requesting that he continue his mission to save Rukia. He-- the seasoned warrior, a vice captain, and an all-around swell guy-- was incapable of rescuing his friend from certain death while the human boy could (and did). And now, after having been tossed his old flame from about a million yards in the sky, he ran for her, cradling the light of his life in his arms.

He was going to ache come morning, but right now it was _so _worth it.

* * *

8. Memories

_When he can't tell whether you've drawn a pair of sunglasses or a teacup with ears... remember that I can._

* * *

9. Old Friends

"You're really familiar with Kuchiki-san, aren't you, Renji-kun?"

He glanced up from his lunch, dragging an arm across the lower half of his face to rid it of unsightly rice.

"Yeah. We've been together since we were kids."

"Together?" Hinamori asked quizzically.

"Yup." Renji licked a bit of rogue soy sauce from his thumb. "Since Rukongai. We were a tight-nit group, and after all of our pals dropped like flies, we decided to become shinigami together."

"Together?"

He looked up, brows furrowed. "Yes, together. That's what I said. Always and forever. Are you stuck on repeat, or is it just your hearing goin', Hinamori?"

* * *

10. Youth

She leaps from atop the slain Hollow and to his side, watching the beast shatter into an oblivion both of them can understand.

"Are we too old for this?"

Rukia glances up at Renji and sees at once that he is trapped in between "joking" and "concerned." So, for the sake of his half-assed seriousness, she considered the question. Certainly they were acting their age, weren't they? Old man Yamamoto was still alive and kicking after living Heaven knew how many times more than they. The fight was in his blood. It was in his soul. Theirs, too.

They were pushing three-hundred years. Both of them. She smiles and gives him a borderline-condescending pat on the shoulder.

"We'll never be too old for this."

* * *

11. Flowers

He's close, she realizes. Very close. His face is extremely close and she can feel the breath from his lips tickle the flesh of her neck.

"You smell like an old woman."

Rukia shoots to her feet and glares, a heated blush spreading on her cheeks.

"Tulips! I smell like tulips! It's perfume, you idiot!"

He grins as she stamps her foot, acting nearly one hundred years too young for her age.

"I'm not saying it's bad or anything. You smell like a nice old lady." The grin spreads. "I like it."

Rukia folds her arms and glances to the side. For the moment, she supposes that she can be placated. At least until she can think up a proper response.

* * *

"Well... well you smell like you haven't showered in fifty years."

* * *

"That's a lie! I just showered this morning!"

* * *


End file.
